Valentine Rebellion
by Annamonk
Summary: A one shot inspired by a discussion of Percy Weasley Aesthetics on Tumblr. It's a bit of fluff. This is not my sandbox, but it's fun to play here.


Percy Weasley didn't let his eyes slide to the mirror as he stepped out of his small flat. It served no purpose in his life now. He refused to fuss over his appearance any longer.

He'd spent too many years pretending to be something he wasn't. Wasted too much time trying to emulate others. Even after all the war had cost his family, he had stayed the course, more or less.

Well, propriety be damned. He was done. He was a wild Weasley, and he was ready.

He might have continued on if she hadn't come along.

Hermione Granger.

She didn't care. She came into work with sleeveless shirts and pretended not to notice when they stared at her arm. When their eyes traced the word carved into her skin again and again.

She never flinched.

She never moved to cover it.

She never showed an ounce of shame.

He'd never seen a hint of doubt in her eyes. She was kind. She was strong. She was opinionated.

He knew she wasn't perfect, but it didn't matter.

He loved her.

Hopelessly.

Sure, she wasn't with Ronald at the moment, but he had no chance. She needed someone bold and vibrant. There was no undersecretary to the undersecretary of unimportant minutiae in her future.

He wasn't the hero type, but tonight, he would be.

Arriving at his destination, he frowned at the lupine figures twined around the entrance. They were vaguely disturbing and oddly proportioned. This whole event was farcical.

The Lupercalia Ball was just another excuse for the old guard to edge out muggleborn customs. The more things changed, the more they remained exactly the bloody same. Valentine's Day was apparently a culturally pernicious weed.

"To honor motherhood in all its magical glory." Percy rolled his eyes and stopped just outside the ballroom. His mother was happily holding court. Hermione was standing against the far wall in a gown that his mother had chosen. It was a ridiculous confection of ruffled swirls that wouldn't be appropriate on a school girl much less a determined young woman, but the opera gloves were the real affront.

He closed his eyes. Fury wouldn't serve him. He needed to be bold and brash. He needed to be everything he had ever suppressed within himself. He needed to be suave like Bill, raucous like Charlie, mischievous like Fred had been, and determined as George had become. Most of all he needed to find the genuine goodness of his father within himself. The man could stay the course because it was the right thing to do, and so could his son.

He smoothed his hands along the lapels of his muggle tuxedo. He looked at his brothers in their matching dress robes and fought the urge to smile. They had all fallen beneath the weight of their mother's wishes. He felt his lips lift in an unfamiliar smirk.

He didn't look toward his assorted family members as he strode into the room. He wasn't here for them. He walked directly to Hermione.

Her eyes widened when he stopped in front of her. He saw the shock of his attire reflected there. She blushed slightly and her hands drifted down to her gown where they promptly got lost. It truly was a hideous thing.

"Pick a color." Percy smiled. "I don't care which one, but just one."

"Why?" Hermione frowned. He should have known there would be questions.

"Because I've come to rescue you from my mother's atrocious fashion sense and sweep you off your feet." Percy shrugged one shoulder. "It was kind of you to wear the thing, but... I think I can do better."

"Red, then." Hermione's chin lifted slightly. It was enough. He flicked his wand and her gown flowed around her in a swirl of fabric and became an elegant red gown. She looked down and smiled. It was the wide happy smile he adored.

"Take off the gloves." Percy traced a finger along her covered wrist.

"The better to feel you with?" Hermione raised a single dark brow. His stomach clenched and he had to push away the indecent images her words evoked.

"It was wrong of Mum to ask you to cover it." Percy glanced down at her black shoes and chewed on his lower lip. He was such a failure. There was no wildness in him. "If you are comfortable with it, your family should be as well."

"You went into muggle London for this suit." Hermione traced her finger on his left cuff. "Did you go alone?"

"Yes." He glanced up and saw her wide smile. "I couldn't ask my brothers."

"They would have teased you." Hermione nodded.

"They would have told my mother." Percy smiled a bit.

"A dangerous gambit." Hermione's eyes lit with mirth. "Being the messenger."

"The others don't think like that." He shrugged.

"The others didn't do this for me, either." Hermione rose up on her toes and pressed her soft lips to his cheek. "Thank you."

"Shall we dance?" Percy held out a hand and tried not to grin like a clabbert when she put her own in it.

They didn't talk as they swirled around the dance floor. He caught her appraising glances from time to time, but didn't bother trying to do more than enjoy holding her as they waltzed. He didn't want the dance to end.

"I'm rather fond of my shoes." Hermione broke the silence between them. "I'd rather not have to leave one behind for you on the stairs."

"Why would you?" Percy tried to figure out what she meant, but this must be one of those odd, muggle customs.

"Come on, Prince Charming." Hermione grasped his hand and pulled him from the dance floor. "I can't face the chicken. I'm taking you out."

Percy followed her out the door and into the night. They ate at a restaurant that served Thai food. He liked the food, but he loved watching her smile and gesture wildly as they discussed creature rights.

She was amazing.

He had loved her before.

Now, he was enthralled.

After, she danced with him on the sidewalk, humming an unfamiliar tune. He pulled her closer than was proper and enjoyed the warmth of her. He let his hand dip slightly below her waist. This was his one night. It was time to be bold.

"It's almost midnight." Hermione stared up at the building next to them. "Come upstairs with me."

Percy blinked. He hadn't expected to be invited into her home. He managed to nod.

"It's not much, but it's home." She guided him into the apartment.

He looked around at the overstuffed bookcases and well loved furniture. The large ginger cat stretched across the back of her couch flicked it's tail lazily. He liked the warmth of the place.

"You forgot something when you transfigured my gown." Hermione dragged him further into the apartment. She let his hand go and pulled her wand from its place in the tousled curls of her hair. She unzipped her dress with a flick of her wand and held it to her chest with one hand. "I've enjoyed feeling naughty all evening."

"What did I forget?" Percy couldn't think of single thing.

"My undergarments." Hermione blushed and dropped the dress a bit revealing more of her pale flesh. "We should work on that skill. I have a feeling we are going to need it in the future."

Percy froze as she turned and he saw her bare back and the dimples on her lower back.

"I didn't think..." Percy stopped speaking and swallowed when she turned back to face him. "I didn't do this to seduce you."

"Too bad." Hermione tapped her wand against her chin. "I've been hoping you'd try for a long time now, but I'm adaptable."

She flicked her wand, and he felt his clothing sliding off. He blushed at her wicked smile and clutched at his shirt. He wasn't adaptable, but he really wanted to be.

"I'm not adaptable." Percy frowned. "I want to be, but I'm not a normal Weasley. I'm not going to be able to walk away from this if I join you."

"I'm hoping you won't be able to walk at all for a while." Hermione grinned. "And only when holding my hand most of the time after that."

Percy blinked.

It had to be a dream.

But, it was a good dream.

He let his clothing drop to the floor and followed her into her bedroom.


End file.
